Ugly
by PrettyGreenEyes11
Summary: 5 years ago they left the wizarding world, she left hoping to forget her past, hoping to forget her life as a witch and the people associated with it. He left needing to forget his future, needing to forget the ultimatum, and needing finally to be himself. Leading separate lives, a chance encounter results in their fates intertwined.
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

UGLY.

The word had slipped out of the red headed boy's mouth unthinkably, it was damaging and degrading and it shattered her fragile self-esteem in only a second.

She was 17, curvy, elegant and understated. She was by no means ugly, but the girl would always be the 11 year old frizzy haired, buck toothed, pale little girl, embarking on a big journey into a new world.

Draco stood amongst the gathering crowd of students and looked at the brunette standing frozen and tight lipped within the centre. It was obvious that she was fighting back her tears.

She was natural… it was the only way to describe it, Draco mused as he studied her. The quiet of the crowd allowed him the opportunity to actually look at the girl in question.

She wasn't the usual definition of beauty in the fact that she wasn't fake. She didn't wear make-up, she didn't dress up to impress people, she was just…her. But by no means was she ugly.

Her large brown eyes were almost other worldly in their intensity, her every emotion shining in the dark liquid pools of colour. It was her eyes that made her so breath-taking to look at. Sure she had a nice figure - she had been an early developer - but she hid her body away choosing to cover it up with her robes, it was her body and her choice at the end of the day.

Her hair, whilst still wild and thick, hung in long silk curls framing her heart shaped face. Her face itself was understated, she had the bone structure pureblooded girls would kill for, her skin was clear of any blemishes, and the only imperfection was the smattering of freckles across her nose. Her lips were plump and sensual and formed a perfect pink cupid bow. But it was her eyes, so raw and passionate, so emotive. They were captivating. If Draco could use any word to describe her, ugly would not be it.

Such a shame she was a mudblood.

She stood there frozen, rooted to the spot as the red headed boy sneered at her in disgust. Draco couldn't help the sneer that appeared on his own face in regards to the lanky Gryffindor. That boy wouldn't be able to appreciate beauty unless it kicked him in the balls, perhaps not even then. His definition of beauty, if the conversation was any indication, was limited to the tart, Brown.

Lavender Brown.

Draco shuddered, 80% of that girls beauty could be taken off with a quick _scourgify _spell, he half contemplated casting it just to see the look on the Weasel's face. Perhaps not, he didn't really want to get involved in this, after the final battle he wanted to keep a low profile, the Malfoy name was mud thanks to his father, he didn't need the extra attention.

And yet, even still, every nerve in his body was screaming at him to do something, to intervene and move the Gryffindor Princess. It was as if she was facing what seemed like the wizard equivalent of the muggle firing squad, sans guns. No guns weren't needed here, words were the Weasel's weapon of choice, they cut deep and wounded the girl before him. It was almost as barbaric as seeing the bloodshed.

Draco looked on as Hermione Granger stood staring at Ron Weasley and Lavender Brown, the latter draping herself and clinging to the red head. Why were her friends not intervening? Where was the boy-who-fucking-wouldn't-die, Harry Potter, the hero of the hour? And what of his red headed girlfriend the she weasel?

Nothing, no-one.

No-one spoke or defended the brains behind the plan that finally killed Voldemort.

Draco wanted to scream.

If this was him he would understand, but her, _her?!_

She was just as much the saviour as Potter was, and yet now, no-one stood up for her, no-one defended her, when she had fought and risked _her _life to safe their pathetic ones.

Un-fucking Believable.

The screaming started again. The voice was male, shrill and tinged with hate.

"For crying out loud Hermione, don't you get it? I don't want you! No-one wants you! You're plain, you're bookish and you're… you're UGLY!"

It was that word again.

"I'm doing you a favour telling you this now, because believe me, I'm being nice, no-one will ever want you, you will never be pretty or beautiful or anything else. Get used to that."

He'd had enough; he couldn't listen to this drivel anymore.

He pushed his way to the front, he didn't think twice about touching his peers and removing them from his way, he _had _to get to her, he _had _to protect her, defend her somehow, if only to remove her from the situation. He just _couldn't _leave her like this.

Finally he was through, he wasn't even thinking as he clasped Hermione's small hand in his own whilst sneering at both the red head and the Brown girl, before pulling her back through the crowd of students.

He continued pulling her away from the crowd until he reached the portrait to the head dorms. Only then did he stop to look at the girl, whose hand was still held tightly in his own. She looked at him and he was lost.

Those eyes.

Her eyes were so dark, so expressive, so alluring. They shimmered with tears that clung to her long dark lashes and cascaded down her cheeks. He reached out to brush the droplet of moisture away, the softness of her skin shocking him momentarily. But before he could even remove his hand she was gone.

He wouldn't see her at dinner, and the Weasel's smug expression only served to anger him.

He wouldn't see her at breakfast the next morning either.

He didn't even see her at graduation.

That was 5 years ago.

**A/N: So this idea just came to me, what do you think so far?**

**For all my regular readers, I will now be back to finish my other stories as I have FINALLY finished university and have the time to dedicate to my stories, I'm sorry to have kept you all waiting.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter One**

_**5 Years Later…**_

It was bright, that was the first thing that registered in his head. The blinding light burnt his sensitive eyes despite them being closed; they pierced his eyelids, daring him to open them to find the source.

He heaved a sigh as he turned his head away from the sun, his grey eyes focusing on the slim blonde lying next to him, what was her name again…Laura? Lara? He didn't know and he didn't care. She was just one of many, attention seeking, gold digging bimbo's who had latched themselves onto him, all of them fame-hungry, all of them hoping to catch and obtain the illustrious Draco Malfoy. Serial ladies' man, Britain's number 1 eligible bachelor and F1's newest and youngest racing star, he was all of those things. He was also a wizard, not that he mentioned that to his muggle employers or fans, that piece of information was irrelevant and forgettable, or so Draco thought.

Draco looked around the room he was in, it definitely wasn't his. But that was no surprise since he never took his conquests back to his apartment that would be crazy. The paparazzi would have a field day, that and most likely said conquests would turn into stalkers; he didn't want or need that to happen.

The room was in the only way he could describe it, garish. The florescent pink walls and leopard print bed spread clashed magnificently, and if his eyes weren't already hurting from the sun streaming in from the open window, the yellow accents would definitely cause the pain behind his retinas. What was this girl thinking? He must have been ridiculously drunk the previous night to have not seen this, or preoccupied, but Draco hardly thought the latter was correct. He was tired of the endless supply of Barbie dolls, each as fickle and false as the last, and yet he still had needs, he was a growing boy. But each of the girls were missing something, a spark, a quirkiness… a personality, they were all so, vapid.

He sighed again, as he attempted to remove himself from the bed quietly so as not to disturb the sleeping, nameless girl beside him.

His clothes as predicted were scattered aimlessly around the room, obviously indicating to the previous night's activities. Draco quickly stepped into his boxers and designer jeans, the silver steel stretch denim hung low on his hips emphasising the perfect V-line, and the clingy material hugged his slim but muscular legs.

Tip toeing around the room he proceeded to pick up his leather boots, his white tank top and blue shirt, barely casting a second glance at the sleeping girl before exiting the bedroom in search of an exit.

The bedroom door led him into a sitting room come kitchen, it was tidy and light if not a bit small, but Draco didn't really notice much else as he dug into his pocket to get his iphone. Draco smiled at the piece of technology, all those years his father had told him that muggles were filth and barbaric, just because they lacked the magic that ran through his veins, and yet the very same muggles had invented something so clever, light and small in which to quickly communicate with others.

The wizarding world only had floo and owls in which to communicate with, well as far as he knew, he hadn't been to the wizarding part of London for nearly 5 years, and he had no intention of going back.

Draco shook his head of his musings before tapping on screen and calling his manager, boy would he be pissed, Draco smirked to himself. Jack Thompson, as nice a guy as he was, was a complete control freak, when it came to Draco's bedroom habits anyway, but like a true friend he dealt with the backlash, from both the press and his conquests. He had well and truly saved his ass, in more ways than one. If it wasn't for Jack, Draco may never have got to where he was now.

The call connected after 3 rings, and Draco was greeted with Jack deep voice.

"Where've you gotten yourself to now, Drake?" Jack asked.

Draco shook his head. "That predictable am I?"

Draco's question was met with Jack's deep booming laughter.

"Son, I've given up trying to stop you from pursuing the skirts but you aren't having any of it."

Draco shrugged his shoulders not that Jack could see it; he walked towards one of the green sofas in the living area and sat down as he replied.

"What can I say, I'm a young lad, I need time to play the field." He replied nonchalantly, eyeing the stack of magazines on the coffee table.

"I tell you, Draco. One day you'll be knocked of your feet by some girl and all you'll want to do is settle down with her -"

Draco went to interrupt but Jack carried on his rant, prompting Draco to lean forward and pick up the first magazine on the pile on the coffee table. He'd only gone as far as picking it up when he heard Jack shouting his name.

"Draco, seriously pay attention, where are you? I need you back at yours for a meeting."

Draco shook his head and stood from the sofa, magazine in hand as he made his way to the window.

"Somewhere near Oxford Road, no doubt Jones knows exactly."

He heard Jack huff down the phone in frustration.

"I'll send a car." Jack said finally. "Stay where you are until Jones comes and gets you, I need to make sure that there are no paparazzi around."

Draco hung up the phone after that, still staring at the bustling city below him, so many people going about their daily lives, unaware of the phenomenon of magic pulsating around them.

A sudden closing of a door alerted him to the fact that the faceless woman from last night was awake. He didn't look up at her as she entered the room, instead he looked at the front cover of the magazine he was holding and the model on it, it was the latest issue of _Magnifique. _

He heard the woman give a pathetic cough to gain his attention, but Draco's eyes were glued to the model. He was captivated by her, it was the only word for it; she had a riot of wild chocolate brown ringlets, which framed a smooth slightly tanned face. Her lips were painted a blood red, which emphasised her cheek bones, which gave way to her eyes. They were enhanced by the dark, smoky makeup, but it was her eyes themselves that allowed for a spark of recognition. They were so deep, so enchanting and so intense. He had only seen one pair of eyes like that before and the person they had belonged to had disappeared.

It was then he looked up at the blonde woman before him, when he spoke his voice was hoarse.

"Who is this woman?" he asked pointing at the model.

The blonde scrunched her face up before approaching Draco to look at the magazine. As she got closer to the picture the blondes face became more screwed up.

"She going to be your next victim is she?" The woman's voice was full of bitterness and it shocked Draco.

"Excuse me?" he asked genuinely confused.

"Oh please like you don't know. You were totally on your way out and you weren't about to say goodbye. We're all the same to you Draco Malfoy, a little fun, a one night stand. It doesn't matter that we have feeling does it? No it doesn't because you don't care about us."

Draco shook his head; he didn't have time for this.

"Look I'm sorry about whatever it is I've done to upset you, but answer my question. Who is she?" he asked showing the blonde the model again.

The blonde shook her head before answering; her voice was tinged with defeat.

"They call her Mya, but that's her model name, her real name is from that Shakespeare play." She said looking anywhere but at Draco.

"Which play?"

"I think it's the Winter's Tale…" she said trailing off to look at another magazine on the table.

"Yeah that's the one." She said picking up the magazine she had been looking at and began flicking through the glossy pages.

"Here we are… her real name is, Hermione."

The blonde didn't have time to register the look of shock on Draco's face as he made his way out of her apartment.


End file.
